


The 10th of Tevet

by transmarkcohen



Series: Jewish Holidays [2]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/F, F/M, Gay, Jewish Holidays, Judaism, Lesbian, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28316811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transmarkcohen/pseuds/transmarkcohen
Summary: Eight days after Hanukkah, Maureen celebrates a minor Jewish holiday and wonders where she went wrong.
Relationships: Joanne Jefferson/Maureen Johnson, Roger Davis/Mimi Marquez
Series: Jewish Holidays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073855
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	The 10th of Tevet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anothergayrentfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anothergayrentfan/gifts).



> ok so this is a lot more plot-filled than dealing with the holiday as opposed to the first one  
> but it’s all important  
> there is so much plot

Eight days had passed since Hanukkah. Maureen sat at the table, admiring her engagement ring. She and Joanne had gone out and bought her one after she’d proposed because why  _ wouldn’t  _ they both wear one when they were engaged? It seemed silly, one partner not wearing it. 

Joanne was at work. Today was the 10th of Tevet, the Hebrew month. Today was the Jewish holiday which marked the destruction of the Temple by Nebuchadnezzar II. Maureen was fasting. Joanne had said she would try. 

Maureen sighed. She didn’t have a job. She wondered if it would be the same when she and Joanne got married. They hadn’t picked a date yet, but they knew it would be next year. (On the Gregorian calendar, not the Hebrew one. Maureen wasn’t waiting until next Rosh Hashanah to get married.) 

She glanced at the phone. Maybe she should call Mark. She hadn’t seen or talked to him since the proposal. She understood why, though, after she’d told him what she’d told Joanne. 

She couldn’t help herself. She picked up the phone and dialed Mark’s number. One ring...two rings…

“I’m not screening this, I think it’s Maureen,” Maureen heard Mark probably tell Roger as soon as he picked up. “Hi. What is it?” 

“Mark!” Maureen said. “Uh...hi. I wanted to talk to you.” 

“About what, Maureen?”

“Do...do you want Roger there?” Maureen asked hesitantly.

“...oh.” There was a muffled sound and Maureen heard  _ ‘aquí no. adelante’  _ and then the sound of furniture creaking. Probably Roger getting off the couch. 

Mark spoke into the phone again, his voice ice cold. “What do you have to say, Maureen?” he said more than asked. “What is it that you haven’t already ruined about the whole situation for me? Did you quote-un-quote “accidentally” tell someone else, too?” 

“Mark, I never meant to tell her!” Maureen said desperately. “And c’mon, isn’t it kind of yo- _ our  _ fault that we didn’t use a condom?” 

“Maureen, I’m going to hang up. Goodbye.”

“No, wait!” Maureen cried desperately, lunging at air. She tumbled onto the ground with her hand outstretched. No response from Mark, but he didn’t hang up. The phone crackled. “Please, please, give me a chance to explain. I didn’t mean to tell her. And she won’t tell anyone else.”

“I know  _ she  _ won’t.”

Mark could be almost scary when you angered him, Maureen thought. At least...about something like this. Even with Benny that had been normal anger. Righteous anger. But Maureen was terrified. Would he ever forgive her? “Mark, I...why is it such a big deal that I told her about your mistake?” 

_ “Mistake?”  _ Mark growled into the phone, and then the line went dead. The beeping persisted through the air as Maureen collapsed onto the floor, head in her hands, sobbing. 

When Joanne came home, she found Maureen asleep in their bed. “Maureen?” she said gently, setting her briefcase down. 

“Leave me alone,” Maureen moaned from under the blanket. Joanne sat next to her, stroking her hair. 

“What is it,  _ ahuvati?”  _ she asked. 

“...I called Mark.” 

Joanne’s smile quickly turned to a frown. “Oh. Oh, dear. What happened?” 

“The destruction of the Temple.”

“This is why you don’t tell people about that shit.” Joanne stopped stroking Maureen’s hair. “You broke his trust, Maureen. I mean,  _ he kicked you out of his apartment _ . That was clearly some overstepping.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be comforting me?” Maureen snapped. 

“Not in this case.” Joanne slid off the bed and grabbed her briefcase again. “I’d tell you to apologize to Mark, but I don’t think he wants to talk to you right now.” 

Maureen became silent. Joanne left. 

Back at the loft, Mark and Roger were sitting on the couch together, each working on their own thing. Mimi had loved the poems Roger had written her for Hanukkah, and Mark was attempting to write yet another screenplay to distract himself from what had transpired with Maureen. 

Mark scowled, unsatisfied with his work. He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the trash stove's fire. Roger looked up. 

"Are you alright?" he asked. 

"No, Roger, of course I'm not," Mark snapped. "First my mom tries to control my life again, and now Maureen...tries to control my life! I'm so…" He balled his hands into fists, his face red. 

"Oh." Roger bit his tongue. "Of course not. I mean, what the fuck is your mom even thinking?" 

"She wants me to marry some  _ 'nice, Jewish boy',"  _ Mark said in a nasally voice. "So she just  _ arranges a marriage  _ for me. And announces it." Mark kicked the couch. "She wants me to have kids." 

"You don't want kids?" Roger asked, pencil hanging in the air, having stopped writing. 

"No. I  _ do  _ want kids. I just...well. Not on anyone else's terms." Mark stood up abruptly. "Not on anyone else's terms but my own. God dammit, Mom. This is why I moved out." He walked back to his room and Roger watched him, concerned. Mark wouldn't say what Maureen had told Joanne. It was something so private that even Roger didn't know. So he knew Maureen had really fucked up. 

He sighed and went back to writing. He couldn't figure out Mark's problems on his own. He didn't even know what Mark's problems  _ were,  _ so how could he help him? He didn't know. 

Mark had buried his face into his pillow and begun sobbing. The whole year was a fucking mess. 

He was the one who said as long as they were careful, they should be fine without a condom. Then he got pregnant. It tortured Mark for weeks. He really wanted kids, he did, but he was so poor he didn't think he'd ever be able to give them a good life - so he eventually decided to get an abortion. Maureen wasn't happy about it. She blamed him for it. And, sure, he had been the one to make the decision, but what other choice did he have? If he'd had that kid...he could've died, the baby could've died, the kid would've grown up in a place without even a working bathroom. Mark couldn't do that to a child. It tore him up so much, though. He really wanted kids. He did. But he couldn't base his life on anyone's expectations, Maureen's or his mom. 

Sometimes, Mark thought this was why Maureen had really broken up with him. Not because she was bisexual and loved Joanne more. No. Because she was angry at him for getting an abortion. And when his darkest thoughts crept in, he thought, she was  _ right.  _ It was her child and he had  _ killed  _ it. Mark had loved Maureen so much he would've done anything for her. Even die for her. So why did he abort the baby?

Mark knew he had every right to. His body, his choice, right? And Maureen was nowhere near prolife. 

He sighed and turned around, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. In one hand he clutched his blanket - a fairly soft comforter that his mother had sent him one year. Years ago, when he still had a better relationship with her. 

Their relationship had never been good, but there were points where it was...okay. Mark didn't know if he loved his mother, but in those moments, at those times, he did like her. 

But now. 

Now he hated her. 

First, she had called to tell him that he  _ had  _ to marry this random guy she had picked out for him. Mark had never wanted an arranged marriage for himself, and he was still barely sure if he even wanted  _ marriage.  _ All his partners seemed to leave him. What was the point of committing to someone who would just up and leave him?    
And second...she had said the main point of the marriage was to have children. 

Mark screamed into his pillow. 

He wanted children  _ so goddamn much.  _ It killed him that he'd had to have an abortion. But he  _ had  _ to. He couldn't raise a baby in this environment. He and Roger could barely live in this environment. 

Thank God their friends had managed to find other places to live. 

Except Mimi. 

At least she, Mark, and Roger had each other.

Mimi was in her apartment, humming to herself as she sewed. She hadn’t taken down her chanukiah from the windowsill yet. She’d put Roger’s poems by it, wanting to remember exactly where they were in case she got an urge to read them while cleaning her apartment. She loved them so much. She loved Roger so much.

The poems had been such a great Hanukkah gift, Mimi couldn’t imagine anything better. And to think Roger had been worried about pleasing her! She laughed to herself. She loved everything he wrote, no matter how good it was, because of how much she loved him. 

Mimi couldn’t imagine her life without him.

She finished her current stitch and got up from the table. Perhaps she should go see Roger. Maybe not. She’d heard him and Mark talking earlier, and it wasn’t pretty. Something to do with Maureen? Mimi didn’t know, but she didn’t want to pry.    
Mimi walked over to her window, watching the snow fall outside. There was something so...peaceful about it. 

She smiled. 

She couldn't imagine her life any other way. 

Maureen shivered as she walked in the snow to Mark’s the next day. When she finally reached the loft and rang the doorbell, she was at first greeted by silence. But she thought she could hear two male voices talking. 

“I’ll get it,” one came clearly as he stepped closer to the door. Mark. He opened it and- 

Maureen had never thought he was a capable of producing such a scowl. In one quick second every line on his face was wrinkled into an angry frown. 

“Get out,” he growled. 

“No, please!” Maureen said, holding up her hands for him to stop. “I came to...to apologize.” 

Mark closed the door behind him and stepped onto the landing, though all his tension remained. “What do you want?” he said flatly. If Maureen came to apologize, she wanted something from him, otherwise she wouldn’t have come. 

“Really. To apologize.” Mark blurred in Maureen’s vision as her eyes filled up with tears.”To say that I am sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.” 

Mark crossed his arms, leaning against the door. “And why should I believe that? Maureen, you’ve hurt me too much for me to let my guard down for a long overdue apology.” 

“I know.” Maureen hung her head in shame. Mark opened his mouth to say more, but then-

_ Riiiiiing. _

__ Mark spun around, suddenly frightened. Maureen looked up, oddly intrigued. Roger’s voice came through the door. “Mark, I think it’s your mom!” He called.

“Shit, shit, shit, no…” Mark had changed from the bitter, cynical man a second ago. Now he was a jittery pack of nerves. 

“Mark?” Maureen asked. Mark looked back at her. 

“You can’t be here,” he said. “You have to  _ go,  _ Maureen. She won’t...I can’t…” He desperately readjusted his glasses, all those anger wrinkles readjusted into fear.

“What’s...going on?” Maureen asked, Mark’s fear rubbing off of her. 

“ _ Go.  _ Please. We’ll talk later.” Mark bolted through the door, leaving Maureen confused on the stairwell, and picked up the phone on its very last ring.

Roger stared at his friend, and out at the hallway where his other friend stood, perplexed. Something was going extremely wrong here.

“Mom, what the fuck do you want?” Mark snapped into the phone.

“Hello, Mark, I see you still haven’t gained respect for your elders,” Mark’s mom replied dryly. “I was calling to let you know you’ll need to meet your fiancé this weekend. It doesn’t need to be  _ long _ but you’ll need to meet him, dear! After all, the wedding’s only in a few months.” 

“There will be no wedding!” Mark shouted. 

“Oh, but...there will,” Mark’s mother cooed. “If you want us to keep supporting you, that is. I don’t fully understand your lifestyle, but if you agree to this, I will support you - financially - any way I can.” 

Mark slammed the phone down onto the receiver. 

Maureen had come back to her and Joanne’s place. Joanne was still at work, and thank God, because Maureen’s protest clearly weren’t enough to support herself. “That’s what’s wrong with this fucking country,” she grumbled as she crawled back into bed, throwing her blanket over herself. She didn’t know what was going on between Mark and his mom, but God, she knew it had to be something awful.

Maureen must have gone to sleep, because the next thing she knew she heard the door opening. God. She was so tired of everything. She had legitimately wanted to apologize to Mark but that had clearly gone nowhere. She was still spiraling in her thoughts when Joanne came into the room.

“Hi, Maureen,” she said. “Are you okay?” 

Maureen shrugged. A strand of hair fell in her face. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Joanne, something weird is going on with Mark.” 

Joanne glanced at her as she began unpacking her briefcase. “Oh?” she said. “What do you mean?” 

“I went over to apologize-“

“How’d that go,” Joanne muttered, but Maureen glared at her for interrupting.

“And just as Mark was shutting me out again, the phone rang. It was his mom. I could only hear bits and pieces of what she was saying but...Joanne, I think his mom is trying to  _ arrange a marriage  _ for him.”

Joanne stopped unpacking. All this was too much shit for her to deal with. She had enough on her plate with sexist coworkers and the stress of her job and the conversion to Judaism - she just wanted a break. “Maureen, this is too much,” she said out loud. “Maybe we should think about dinner.”

“Fasting, remember?” Maureen pointed out. 

Joanne closed her eyes. “Oh. Right.”

“You don’t have to,” Maureen said softly, attempting to comfort her girlfriend. “Your conversion isn’t finished and it’s only a minor holdiay-“

“I’m...just going to order something.” Joanne walked out of the room. Maureen could hear her talking on the phone. She sighed. Was she ever going to know how to be a good girlfriend? Or - well, now, fiancée? She loved Joanne, she knew that. She just didn’t know how to show it in a way that Joanne understood, fully and forever. 

Maureen pulled her knees up to her chest. At least she’d chosen Joanne. In a way. 

If Mark married this man, he would never have a choice again. His mother would control his entire life. Maureen had to stop the wedding. She loved Joanne, but she loved Mark, too. He was her friend, and  _ goddammit,  _ she was going to help him. 

She asked Joanne later (after her fiancée had eaten and had a clear mind) about it and to her great surprise and gratitude, Joanne was more than willing to help out. So eager, in fact, that Maureen wondered if she’d gone through the same thing.

She shrugged these thoughts off as she finally went to sleep. She would ask Joanne tomorrow. 


End file.
